100%: the Story of a Patriot eBook

Peter’s two policemen backed him against the
wall and proceeded to go thru his pockets, producing
the shameful contents—­a soiled rag, and
two cigarette butts picked up on the street, and a
broken pipe, and a watch which had once cost a dollar,
but was now out of order, and too badly damaged to
be pawned. That was all they had any right to
find, so far as Peter knew. But there came forth
one thing more—­the printed circular which
Peter had thrust into his pocket. The policeman
who pulled it out took a glance at it, and then cried,
“Good God!” He stared at Peter, then he
stared at the other policeman and handed him the paper.

At that moment the man not in uniform entered the
room. “Mr. Guffey!” cried the policeman.
“See this!” The man took the paper, and
glanced at it, and Peter, watching with bewildered
and fascinated eyes, saw a most terrifying sight.
It was as if the man went suddenly out of his mind.
He glared at Peter, and under his black eyebrows the
big staring eyes seemed ready to jump out of his head.

“Aha!” he exclaimed; and then, “So
I’ve got you!” The hand that held the
paper was trembling, and the other hand reached out
like a great claw, and fastened itself in the neck
of Peter’s coat, and drew it together until
Peter was squeezed tight. “You threw that
bomb!” hissed the man.

“Wh-what?” gasped Peter, his voice almost
fainting. “B-b-bomb?”

“Out with it!” cried the man, and his
face came close to Peter’s, his teeth gleaming
as if he were going to bite off Peter’s nose.
“Out with it! Quick! Who helped you?”

“My G-God!” said Peter. “I
d-dunno what you mean.”

“You dare lie to me?” roared the man;
and he shook Peter as if he meant to jar his teeth
out. “No nonsense now! Who helped you
make that bomb?”

Peter’s voice rose to a scream of terror:
“I never saw no bomb! I dunno what you’re
talkin’ about!”

“You, come this way,” said the man, and
started suddenly toward the door. It might have
been more convenient if he had turned Peter around,
and got him by the back of his coat-collar; but he
evidently held Peter’s physical being as a thing
too slight for consideration—­he just kept
his grip in the bosom of Peter’s jacket, and
half lifted him and half shoved him back out of the
room, and down a long passage to the back part of
the building. And all the time he was hissing
into Peter’s face: “I’ll have
it out of you! Don’t think you can lie
to me! Make up your mind to it, you’re going
to come thru!”

The man opened a door. It was some kind of storeroom,
and he walked Peter inside and slammed the door behind
him. “Now, out with it!” he said.
The man thrust into his pocket the printed circular,
or whatever it was—­Peter never saw it again,
and never found out what was printed on it. With
his free hand the man grabbed one of Peter’s
hands, or rather one finger of Peter’s hand,
and bent it suddenly backward with terrible violence.
“Oh!” screamed Peter. “Stop!”
And then, with a wild shriek, “You’ll
break it.”